The Convenient Groom
by CrazyJT02
Summary: Five hours before her wedding, celebrity marriage counselor Rachel Berry has everything in place.  Everything, that is, but the groom.  Can Noah Puckerman save her day and teach the relationship guru a thing or two about love?  AU.
1. Chapter 01

A/N: In case it's not COMPLETELY obvious, this story is AU. Nothing in the show happened here. I think most questions will be answered through the story but if you have one feel free to ask.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

_Dating is like shopping for a garment. Everything looks great in the display window. Once inside the store, some of the dazzle disappears._

_-_Excerpt from _Finding Mr. Right-for-You _by Dr. Rachel Berry

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The red light on Rachel Berry's cell phone blinked a staccato warning. But before she could retrieve the message, her maid of honor, Brittany Nelson, waved her pale arms from the beach stealing her attention.

Brittney's smooth voice sounded in her headset. "Rachel, can you come here? We've got a few glitches."

"Be right there." Rachel tucked her clipboard in the crook of her elbow, took the steps down the Jetty Pavilion's porch, and crossed the heel-sinking sand of the Nantucket shoreline. In six hours, thirty-four guests would be seated there in the rows of white chairs, watching Rachel pledge her life to Jesse St. James under a beautifully hand carved gazebo.

Where was the gazebo anyway? She checked her watch, and then glanced toward the Pavilion, where workers scurried in white uniforms. No sign of Noah.

She approached Brittany, who wore worry lines as naturally as she wore her Theory pantsuit. Brittany was the best receptionist Rachel could ask for. Her consistently happy presence, bubbly personality and easy smile reassured the troubled couples she ushered through Rachel's office.

Right now, Brittany's long blond hair whipped across her face like a flag gone awry, and she batted it from her eyes with a thin practiced hand. "Soiree's just called. Their delivery truck is in for service, and the flowers will be a little late. Half an hour at the most."

Rachel jotted the note on her schedule. "That's okay." She'd factored in cushion time.

"Murray's called, and the tuxes haven't been picked up except for your fathers'."

Jesse and his best man had been due at Murray's at nine thirty- an hour ago. "I'll check on that. What else?"

Brittany's frown lines deepened, and her eyes blinked against the wind. "The carriage driver is sick, but they're trying to find a replacement. The Weatherbys called and asked if they could attend last minute- they were supposed to go out of town, but their plans changed."

Rachel nodded. "Fine, fine. Call and tell her they're welcome. I'll notify the caterer."

"Your publicist- Kurt?- has been trying to reach you. Did you check your cell? He said he got voice mail. Anyway, your book copies did arrive this morning. He dropped this off." Brittany pulled a hardback book from under her clipboard. "Ta-da!"

"My book!" Rachel stared at the cover, where the title, _Finding Mr. Right-for-You_, floated above a cartoon couple. The man was on his knee, proposing. Below them, a colorful box housed the bold letters of Rachel's name. She ran her fingers over the glossy book jacket, feeling the raised bumps of the letters, savoring the moment.

"Kurt wants a quick photo shoot before the guests arrive. You holding the book, that kind of thing. You should probably call him."

Rachel jotted the note. While it was on her mind, she reached down and turned on her cell.

"Ready for more news?" Brittany asked. Her blue eyes glittered like diamonds. The news had to be good.

"What?"

"The _New York Times_ is sending a reporter and a photographer. They want to do a feature story on your wedding and your book."

Fresh air caught and held in Rachel's lungs. Pearsons was probably turning cartwheels. "That's fabulous. They'll want an interview." She scanned her schedule, looking for an open slot. After the reception? She hated to do it, but Jesse would understand. The _New York Times_. It would give Rachel's initial sales the boost it needed. Maybe enough to make the bestseller list.

"Here's the number." Brittany handed her a yellow Post-It. "That tabloid guy has been hanging around all morning, trying to figure out who the groom is. I told him he'd find out in six hours like everyone else. The rest of the media is scheduled to arrive an hour before the wedding, and Kurt 's having an area set up over there for them." Brittany gestured behind the rows of chairs to a square blocked off with white ribbon.

"Good. I want them to be as inconspicuous as possible. This is my wedding, and a girl only gets married once, after all."

"One would hope." Brittany said. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Rachel gave the taller woman a sideways hug, her excitement bubbling over in the form of a giddy laugh as she squeezed her shoulder. "You're a godsend. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Oh! I know what I forgot to tell you. The gazebo. It should have been here by now. I tried to call Puck, but you know how he is. I got the machine, and his cell is turned off."

"His shop's closed today," Rachel muttered. She should have known better than to put something this crucial in his hands. "I'll run over and check on it."

**XXXXXXXXXXXX**

The drive into town was quick and effortless, but Rachel's mind swam with a hundred details. She jotted down reminders on her clipboard when she stopped for pedestrians, occasionally admiring the cover of her book. She called Kurt for a quick recap about the _New York Times_ reporter, and by the time she hung up, she was pulling into a parallel slot on Main Street, in front of Noah's shop.

The sign above the picture window read "Cottage House Furniture." On the second floor of the Shaker building, the wooden shingle for her own business dangled from a metal pole: "Rachel Berry, Marriage Counseling Services." She needed to remind Noah to remove it; otherwise he'd leave it hanging for another year or until someone else rented the space.

Rachel exited her car and slid her key into the rusty lock of the shop's door. Once inside, she passed the stairs leading to her office and walked through the darkened maze of furniture to the back, where she hoped to find Noah. She bumped an end table with her shin. _Ow!_ That would leave a mark.

The high-pitched buzz of a power tool pierced the darkness, a good sign. "Noah?" She rapped loudly on the metal door with her knuckles. The noise stopped.

"S'open."

She opened the door. Noah Puckerman looked up from his spot on the cement floor at the base of the gazebo. He looked her over, then turned back to the spindle and ran his thick hand over it as if testing the curves.

"Aren't you supposed to be at the beach?" he asked, not looking up.

Rachel crossed her arms. "I could ask you the same thing."

He stood, agile for his size, and backed away from the gazebo. Sawdust from the floor clung to his faded jeans and black T-shirt. "I was just finishing up."

"You were supposed to be there an hour ago," she hissed. "The gazebo needs to be put in place before the sound system, and the florist has to decorate it, and there are people waiting to do their jobs, _Noah_."

He faced her, looking into her in that way of his that made her feel like he could see clean through her. "Today's the big day, huh?" Putting his tool on his workhorse, he dusted off his hands, moving in slow motion as though he'd decided tonight wouldn't arrive until next week.

Rachel checked her watch. "Do you think you can get this down to the beach sometime today?"

Walking around the piece, he studied it, hand son his hips, head cocked. "You like it?"

For the first time since the week before, Rachel looked at the gazebo- the white lattice top, the hand-carved spindles, the gentle arch of the entry. At the top of the arch, a piece of wood curved gracefully, etched with clusters of daisies. The gazebo's simple lines were characteristic of Noah's work, but she'd never know him to use such exquisite detail. The piece had an elegance that surpassed her expectations. He did beautiful work; she'd give him that.

"I do. I love the etching." She sighed. Just when he irritated the snot out of her, he did something like this, caught her off guard. She always felt like she was tripping down the stairs when she was with him.

_Focus!_ "It needs to find its way to the beach. Pronto."

"Yes, ma'am." The lazy drawl of his voice was unhurried as was the accompanying two fingered salute.

Before she could offer a retort, her cell phone pealed and buzzed simultaneously, and she pulled it from the pocket of her shorts.

"Hello?"

"Rachel?"

"Jesse." Turning away from Noah and toward the door, she eyes a crude desk with a metal folding chair that bore countless rusty scratches. "Good morning." A smile crept into her voice. It was their wedding day. The day they'd planned for nearly two years. "Did you sleep well?" She hadn't. She'd tossed around within the sheets until nearly two o'clock, but that was to be expected.

The silence on the other end, however, was not. "Jesse?" Had she lost the signal?

"Um, Rachel, did you get my message?"

There'd been a blinking red light this morning. She'd assumed it was Kurt's voice mail and hadn't checked. Suddenly, she wished she had.

"No. What's wrong?"

"Are you sitting down?"

"No, I'm not sitting down. Just tell me." An ugly dread snaked down her spine and settled there, coiled and waiting.

"I'm on my way back to New York," he said. "I left a message this morning. You must have had your phone off."

Rachel's stomach stirred. She stared at the wall in front of her- a pegboard with a zillion holes, metal prongs poking from it, tools and cords everywhere. "What happened?" Some emergency, maybe?

_What emergency could trump our wedding?_

"I can't marry you, Rachel."

The words dropped, each one crumbling under its own weight. The stirring in her stomach intensified. "That's not funny, Jesse." She whispered. It was a terrible joke. He'd never been good with jokes. His punch lines left you leaning forward, waiting for the rest.

"I'm in love with someone else."

Pain. A huge wooden spoon, tossing the contents of her stomach. Her legs wobbled, trembling on the wedge heels of her sandals, and she clutched the cold metal of the folding chair. "What?" Was that her voice, weak and thready? Someone hand vacuumed all the moisture from her mouth, sucked the air from her lungs.

"I'm so sorry," Jesse was saying. "I know this is awful. You don't deserve this, but I can't marry you. It happened slowly, and I didn't realize what was going on until recently. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I just can't. And I can't marry you knowing how I feel. I'm so sorry, Rachel."

"What?" It was the only word her mind could form at the moment.

"I know there's no excuse. I should have told you before now, but I thought it would go away. I thought I was just having cold feet or something, but it's more than that."

"We've been together for two years, Jesse."

It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all she could think of. Memories played across the screen of her mind in fast forward. The day they'd met in line at a Starbucks in Manhattan when Rachel had gone there for a conference. Their first date at the Theatre. The long-distance courting and weekend visits. The emails, the phone calls, the engagement, the book. It all whizzed by, coming to a screeching halt here, at this moment. Here, in Noah Puckerman's dusty workshop. Here, in front of the special gazebo that she had begged Noah to make for her- for her wedding.

"I've already called my family and told them. I know there's a lot to do, and I'll help any way you want me to. And then there's your book… I'm so sorry."

_Sorry. You're sorry?_ She pictured the precise rows of white chairs, the tent being erected as they spoke, the photographers.

The _New York Times_.

She closed her burning eyes. Everything would have to be cancelled.

At that thought, humiliation arrived on the scene, sinking in past the pain of betrayal. The weight of it pushed at her shoulders, and she grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck. _Think, Rachel! This is no time to lose it._

"Stop, Jesse. Just stop and think about what you're doing. Maybe you're letting your issues with your parents' divorce affect your decisions. This kind of fear is perfectly natural before a wedding and maybe-"

"No, it's not that-"

"How do you know?" She forced reason into her tone. Used her soothing voice- the one she put on when things got heated between one of her couples. "We love each other. We're perfect for each other. You've said it a hundred times."

"There's something missing Rachel."

She wobbled again and steadied herself with a hand on the chair. "Something missing?" What was that supposed to mean?

As her mind grappled with that seemingly unanswerable question, she felt a hand at her back, leading her into the chair. She was sitting, her head as fuzzy as a cotton-candy machine, her emerald-cut engagement ring blurring before her eyes.

"What do you mean there's something missing? The only thing missing is the groom. For our wedding that starts in five hours. Five hours, Jesse." Now she felt the hysteria building and took a full breath, nearly choking on the way the oxygen stretched her lungs.

"I'll help in any way I can."

"You can help by showing up for _our_ wedding!"

Her mind ran through the list of people she'd have to call. Her fathers, the guests, her publisher. She thought of the money Pearsons had spent on this elaborate beach wedding. They'd flown in friends and family from all over the country, paid for the photographer, flowers, caterer, the wedding attire. Rachel had only wanted a simple wedding, but with the release of the book, the marketing department had other ideas. "An elegant wedding and a surprise groom just as the book releases. Think of the publicity, Rachel!"

A knot started in her throat and burned its way to her heart.

"I'll always care about you," Jesse was saying.

The words fell, as empty as a used cigarette bud on a deserted street.

_Enough_.

The adrenaline coursing through her veins drained suddenly, leaving her once again weak and shaky. She couldn't talk to him anymore. She wasn't going to break down on the phone, wasn't going to beg him to come back. It wouldn't accomplish a thing anyway. She'd heard this tone of Jesse's voice before. He was a man who knew what he wanted. And what he didn't want.

And he didn't want Rachel. She suddenly knew that fact as surely as she knew tomorrow would be more impossible to face than today.

She cleared her throat. "I have to go."

"Rachel, tell me what I can do. My family will pitch in too. I want to help fix things."

She wanted to tell him there was no fixing this. There was no fixing her heart or the impending collision of her life and her career. Instead, numb, she closed the phone, staring straight ahead at the holes on the pegboard until they blended together in a blurry haze.

He was leaving her. The man she loved was walking away. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not to her. She'd been so careful, and for what? A hollow spot opened up in her stomach, wide and gaping.

Instead of the headlines reading "Marriage Expert Finds Her Mr. Right," they would read "Marriage Expert Jilted at the Altar."

Rachel had never considered herself prideful, but the thought of facing the next twenty-four hours made cyanide seem reasonable. How could this be happening? To her, of all people? She'd written a book on the subject of finding the right mate and had managed to find the wrong one instead. By tomorrow the whole world would know.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed! Again, this is AU.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

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_Impulsivity is the enemy. Intelligent relationships require careful, thoughtful planning._

-Excerpt from _Finding Mr. Right-for-You_ by Dr. Rachel Berry.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Puck watched Rachel snap her phone shut. Maybe he should've left when he heard the gravity in her voice, but he couldn't. Like a pedestrian gawking at a car accident, he'd watched Rachel receive the news. When he realized what Jesse was saying, he'd wanted to hunt the man down and pummel him until he felt the same pain as Rachel. Instead he'd ushered Rachel to the chair, wishing he could pull her into his arms and tell her it was going to be okay.

But that was the last thing she wanted.

Now she faced the wall, unmoving. Her glossy brown hair hung straight to the middle of her back. He'd never seen her so motionless. She was always on the go, steady as a clock; he'd been mesmerized by that the first time they'd met. Now, her stillness seemed unnatural.

He took a step toward her. "Rach?"

She must have forgotten about him, because she jumped slightly, and then ran her hand across her face before turning partway. A piece of hair that had been tucked behind an ear had come loose. He reached a hand out to push it back to where it had started; her eyes only making it to his knees.

"Noah." She studied the floor as if the paint and varnish stains were one of those abstract paintings to be interpreted. "I guess you heard that."

Her voice was small. But he watched her straighten her back and turn to look fully at him. A scared little girl tucked tightly inside of a woman's body. Her eyes went past him to the gazebo for a second before flittering back.

"I… I guess I won't be needing that. I'll pay you for it, though. It's really beautiful." Her voice choked on the last word.

"I'm not worried about that."

Her half expected her to cave in then, but instead she shot to her feet and began to pace, her heels clicking across the floor. "I have to think," she muttered. "I have to think."

_Ka-clack, ka-clack, ka-clack,_ spin. _Ka-clack, ka-clack, ka-clack,_ spin.

Puck wasn't sure what she meant. Was she trying to figure out how to win Jesse back? Or giving up- making a mental list of everyone to be notified. He couldn't imagine the mess.

But if anyone could wrap her hands around the task, Rachel could. He'd watched her patch up marriages that were dangling by a thread, juggle her syndicated column with her counseling service, and write a book in her spare time. Rachel was an incredible woman. Jesse was an idiot if he couldn't see what he had.

Rachel jerked to a stop and pressed two fingertips to her forehead. "He left me. I have no groom. The newspapers, the media, my publisher. My career. It's over."

She looked fragile and out of place in his expansive and dusty workshop, her short little linen shorts and white silk top immaculate; her black belt encircling her tiny waist. But then Rachel always looked as if she'd been snapped straight from an ironing board.

"I thought he loved me," she whispered, her words wavering.

Puck took a step toward her, then stopped, anchoring his hands deep in his pockets. "It's going to be okay." It felt lame but it was what he always told his baby sister, and it made Bekah feel better. Rachel, however, was not Bekah.

"It's not going to be okay." She leveled him a look. "I've been dumped five hours before my wedding. Everything is riding on this wedding, both personally and professionally. My Mr. Right left me. Do you not understand the irony?"

_Maybe he wasn't your Mr. Right_. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he caught it in time. He watched Rachel's hand tremble against the side of her face. He hadn't know she was capable of trembling.

"I'm supposed to be an expert. Not just in relationships, but in finding the right mate. People write me for advice and trust me to give them answers. I wrote a book to help people make good matches, and I can't even make one myself." She looked away and dragged in a shaky breath. "I'm a failure."

"You're not a failure. Your fiancé made a fucked up decision; that's not your fault."

The metal chair creaked as she sank into it, the sound echoing in the quietness of the room. "That's not how everyone's going to see it."

He reckoned she might be right about that. People could be judgmental, especially if the media put a nasty spin on it.

"I've got to do something," she mumbled through her fingers. "How can I fix this?"

Puck didn't think it was possible. She had guests, a slew of media, and all the wedding fixings. Everything but the groom, and that was most important.

_Everything but the groom_.

The words ricocheted around his head until, one by one they fell into place like tiles on a Scrabble game.

_Everything… but… the groom…_

He rubbed the back of his neck, watching his feet as he began walking toward his work station. It was crazy. Crazier than crazy. It was insane. She'd laugh if he said it out loud. That thought tightened his gut.

Her phone clattered, vibrating on the metal desk. He watched it do the jitterbug.

"I can't answer," she said. "I can't deal with it right now. I don't know what to say." She crossed her arms, and her shoulders scrunched up as though she wished she could cover her ears with them.

Together they watched the phone. _Ring-bzzzzzzzz… Right-bzzzzzzzz…._ When the noise stopped, there was a palpable relief.

Rachel drummed her fingers on her lips, quickly at first, then slowly. Her lips loosened, turned down. Her stubborn chin softened, "It's hopeless."

Her phone rang again, chittering across the desktop. Rachel glared at it, looking as though she might throw it across the room.

"I'll answer." He reached for it.

Rachel stopped him with a hand on his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strop. "What'll you say?"

He met her gaze: wise, chocolate-brown eyes too vulnerable for words. "I'll just take a message."

After a moment, she released his arm, and he picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

A pause. "Puck? Is that you?" the high pitched sound of his step-brother's, and Rachel's publicist's, voice filtered through the line. "Where's Rachel? Please tell me you didn't finally decide to declare your unending love for our Diva. You do know what all she has riding on this-"

"Hummel. She's fine. Can't come to the phone right now so I'm taking a message."

"Okay, well, tell her to call me. No, wait, she won't be able to reach me for a while. Tell her I have good news. This is really important, so be sure and tell her right away. The _Dr. Phil_ show called, and they want her to make a guest appearance next month."

Great. Puck met Rachel's eyes, glanced away. Just what she needed.

"Did you get that?" Kurt asked.

"Got it. I'll let her know." He closed the phone and set it on the desk. He could feel Rachel watching him. Maybe he didn't have to tell her just now.

"Who was it?" Was that hope lilting her voice? Did she think Jesse had changed his mind?

"It was Kurt."

She stared at her manicured fingers, clenched in her lap. "Oh."

She'd actually gotten on the _Dr. Phil_ show. He'd known her popularity had grown nationwide with the column and book and all. But _Dr. Phil_. That was a whole new ball game.

"What did he want?"

Her knee brushed against his leg as she shifted. He crossed his feet at the ankles and gripped the ledge of the desk. "It's nothing that can't wait. He wants you to call him back."

Her upturned face and searching eyes melted him. _Fuck_, she was beautiful. He looked away.

"He said something, didn't he? Something you don't want me to know."

Restless energy pushed him away from the desk. He should've known she wouldn't let it go. He shouldn't have answered the phone. Her type A personality required her to know, even when she already had more than she could handle.

"Excuse me, but my life is hanging in the balance right now. Could you please just spit it out?"

Rachel had straightened in the chair, her hand grasping the rounded edge of the back. Her left hand. Puck watched the diamond engagement ring twinkle under the work lights. "He just wanted to let you know about an interview he set up, is all. You can call him later when you-"

"Who's it with?" Her tone demanded an answer.

He exhaled deeply. She was like a ravenous dog with his last meaty bone.

"I know it must be big. He wouldn't have called me today if it wasn't. And stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you feel sorry for me. Who's it with?

_Fine, Rach, you win._ "Dr. Phil."

He watched her mouth slacken, watched her blink and swallow, watched her eyes change, deaden. He hated it. Hated he'd had any part in bringing that look to her face.

She was still again, and he hated that too. Maybe it wasn't too late to chase Jesse down and knock him flat on his ass. He should be here picking up the pieces, making things right. But he wasn't. Puck was there, and what could he do?

_Everything but the groom._

The words flashed in his mind like a lighthouse beacon, teasing him. _It's crazy. _And even if it wasn't it was self-serving. Well, not that that was _necessarily_ a bad thing.

_You could save Rachel's wedding. Her reputation. Her career. It's an honorable thing._

_But I would also be getting what I wanted. That's selfish, right? I'm supposed to be trying out this whole new leaf shit._

_You were willing to let her go, because you thought it was right. Was that selfish? _

"What am I going to do?" Rachel asked.

She turned her big doe eyes on him, looking at him, needing him. It was heady. He wanted to protect her, to gather her in his arms and keep the rest of the world away.

"How am I going to face everyone? What am I going to tell the media? My publisher?" For the first time, her lip trembled, and she caught it between her teeth. "They paid for everything; did you know that?

Should he say it? Should he offer himself as a stand in? Could it even work? "Maybe it could."

"What?"

Had he said that out loud? Had she heard? Either way, he figured by now he was in deep enough he might as well dive in headfirst. "I have an idea. It's a little crazy." His voice was hoarse; his throat dry.

Surprisingly, she breathed a wry chuckle. "My whole life's a little crazy at the moment."

He studied her. She was actually looking at him with something like hope in her eyes. "Way I see it, the only missing is a groom."

Her laugh was sharp; humorless. "A necessary ingredient, I think you'll agree."

He nodded once, hoping she'd put two and two together so he wouldn't have to say it. "What if there was a different groom?"

She reared back slightly, blinking. Was he teasing her? Making light of this horrific moment in her life? The nerve of him! "I don't exactly have a waiting list, Noah."

He shuffled his feet, and then leaned against the workhorse, not sure if he was ready for what came next. _Just say it. The worse she can do is laugh in my face._ "What if I stood in for Jesse?"

He scuffed at the white paint on the tip of his right shoe as silence closed in around him. A long silence. An uncomfortable silence. If he could've caught the words and pulled them back, he would've. Instead, he glanced at Rachel. The expression on her face reinforced his wish.

"Why would-"She cleared her throat. "Why would you do that?"

_Why would I do it? Because I love you. Because I've been in love with you since the day you stepped foot in my office._ Why hadn't he thought this out before he'd opened his mouth?

He lifted his shoulder. "To help you out," he said.

Her brows pulled together. "We're talking marriage here, not some little favor."

Favor. What if he made a bargain with her? What if she could do something for him in return? "I'd want something in return." _What you idiot? What do I want in return?_

At that, her eyebrows slackened as her lips took up the tension, pressing together in a thin line. Her glare was direct and meaningful, and he immediately knew what she was thinking.

"Don't flatter yourself," he said.

She shook her head as if dislodging a distasteful picture. Of course Noah Puckerman wouldn't be interested in _that_ with her. "It doesn't matter. It wouldn't work. Even if the rest of the world doesn't know who I was marrying, my dad's do. And so does Artie, my editor, and Kurt and Brittany. Not to mention Jesse's family."

A definite glitch, but was there a way around it? Now that the idea had settled a bit, it was growing on him. He shrugged, "Would they keep quiet?"

She gave him a double take. "Keep quiet?" Her fingers found the ruffled collar of her blouse. "You're actually serious."

His heart was a jackhammer gone wild under his rib cage. He scratched at the dried paint on his thumbnail. "I know Kurt would- considering-"he raised one eyebrow in her direction, "and Brittany probably wouldn't even notice. But the rest of them would they?"

She turned away, her long hair swinging saucily. "You can't- you can't just marry me. Marriage is permanent. At least to me it is. You don't jus t make a snap decision to marry someone. People don't do that." She faced him again. "I don't do that."

No, Rachel didn't do that. She planned every step days in advance, every detail in order, everything in its place.

At least she hadn't laughed at him. He straightened and shrugged as casually as he could, given that he felt like a man whose date had turned her head when he tried to kiss her. _As if._ "Suit yourself."

He began wrapping the cord around the sander. It was a stupid idea anyway. He could only imagine his mom's reaction if she returned from her trip to find her son not only married, but married to Rachel Berry. He'd never hear the end of it. And neither would Burt, his step-dad.

Nonetheless, it didn't do much for his ego to know that Rachel would rather see the death of her career than marry him. He stuffed the ache further down and set the sander on the shelf next to his favorite drill, waiting to hear the click of her heels as she left the shop.

Instead, Rachel's voice broke the silence. "The people who know Jesse was the groom… what if one of them leaked it? Besides, there's the marriage license and the tuxes. Something could go wrong, and if everyone found out, it would b ea bigger disaster than what I have now- it that's possible."

_Okay, enough already, I get it._ "It was a stupid idea." She'd made that plain enough. "You should get out your little notepad and make a list of things to cancel."

"Wait." She snapped. "Just wait a minute; I need to think." Apparently she did her best thinking while pacing.

_Whatever._ He turned back to his tools. He didn't see what there was to think about. At this point it was just a matter of facing the music. He didn't envy her that. But if Jesse was loser enough to jilt her at the altar, he wasn't good enough for her. Not that _he_ had ever thought differently.

He kept silent while she pondered her situation. By the time she spoke again, every tool was put away- something that hadn't happened since he'd installed the shelving unit.

"I think I could arrange to keep everyone quiet. I've know Artie since high school and, of course, Kurt would keep quiet. I can trust Brittany and my dad's implicitly. I have a couple of distant relatives here, but they'd keep it to themselves."

She was thinking out loud, not even looking at Puck. "Jesse's family is small, and they're mostly from the Boston area. There were eight relatives here, plus his best man. He could surely convince them to keep quiet. He owes me that at least." Her eyes softened for a moment as if the thought of him made her ache.

Rachel was actually considering it. He'd never known her to do a spontaneous thing, and here she was, thinking about marrying him at the last minute.

Rachel looked Puck over from head to toe; he pulled his shoulders back and smirked to which she rolled her eyes. "The tux won't fit. You're taller and your shoulders are broader. We'd have to get you fitted quickly. Mr. Levitz is a good friend of yours isn't he?"

"Well, yeah…"

"The marriage license might be a problem." She tapped her foot and chewed on the side of her lip, her eyes searching the buzzing fluorescent fixtures for answers. "And we'd need an exit strategy. Maybe a year? Give my book time to succeed and give me time to get another book going. We could get a quiet divorce…"

Her eyes closed. "I can't believe I'm talking about marriage like this. Like it's a cheap business arrangement."

Puck watched her face as she wrestled with her principles. "He backed you into a corner. It's not like you have many appealing options."

She looked at him suddenly, her brows pulling together. "Why are you doing this again?"

_Why? Why? Why?_ How could she help him? She was a marriage counselor, but he wasn't married- yet. His mother's marriage was solid enough, though they loved to fuss at each other. Everyone knew it was just who they were, but an outsider might think…

"Noah? I'm running out of time here."

"My mother's marriage. If you could help them."

Her eyes brightened. Ah, he'd hit the bull's-eye.

"It's in jeopardy?" She asked.

He cleared his throat. Stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. "They fight a lot lately." He needed more, but he didn't want to outright lie. "My mom left for a few days last month." On a girl's weekend trip, but Rachel didn't have to know that. "Bekah said Burt enjoyed her absence." He'd actually said that he'd enjoyed having Bekah all to himself. But that was close enough, wasn't it?

"And you want me to counsel them?"

"No." The word came out a little sharp. "They're both leery of all that psychobabble shit." Her eyebrows rose, and he rephrased. "You'd have to be sly about it. Get to know them. Get them to open up. You can handle it."

"Of course I can." She looked adorably offended as she raised one finger to her lips. "And that's it? That's all you want?"

He wanted much more, but it was a start. "It's my mom's marriage. After my dad… you know…" he shrugged, "Burt, he's a good man. He's good to her."

"Of course. I didn't mean to make it sound trite." Rachel steepled her fingers and tapped the tips together. "I don't even know if this is possible. I think there's a waiting period on the marriage license."

He hadn't thought of that. Maybe the plan was dead in the water. But hadn't his friend gotten married at the last minute? "I think it can be waived. Mercedes Johnson is the town clerk; I'll see what I can find out."

He couldn't believe she was considering it. He couldn't believe _he_ was considering it. He could be marrying Rachel Berry in a matter of hours. In front of friends, family, and media. His legs suddenly quaked as he remembered the article in the paper spelling out the details. The wedding was going to be a media circus. They might want to interview him.

His mouth felt like it was stuffed with sawdust. "No interviews," he said.

It took Rachel a moment to hear him, lost in thought as she probably was, "What?"

"I'll let the media snap all the photos they want, but I won't give interviews."

She shrugged, eye him. "I agree- we don't need to complicate things. What about your family? How are they going to feel?"

That gave him pause. His mom had been urging him to move on since Quinn had died five years ago. Rachel, however, was the last person his mom would want him moving on with. If he told his mom the marriage was temporary, she would be rude, scare Rachel off for good. But if he convinced her that he loved Rachel, she'd have to make an effort, wouldn't she?

"She and Burt are out of town right now, but my sister is here. And so is Finn. I'll call my mom afterward and tell them we got married. And I don't want them to know the particulars. As far as they're concerned, it's the real thing." Besides, if it worked the way he hoped, there'd be no exit strategy needed. He held out his hand. "Deal?"

His breath caught and hung below the mass in his throat.

Rachel stared at him, her eyes a mixture of fear and resolve. Then she put her hand in his. "Deal."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

A/N: Reviews are love. They might even prompt me to update sooner :-)


	3. Chapter 3

_There's no such thing as Mr. Right. But there is a Mr. Right-for-You._

-Excerpt from _Finding Mr. Right-for-You_ by Dr. Rachel Berry

**XXXXXXXXX**

If Rachel had to explain the change one more time she was going to pull out her hair. The horror etched into the eyes of Brittany and Kurt had been enough to start the second-guessing. They'd run over the pros and cons quickly, more for their own benefit than anything that had to do with her. Rachel had covered that ground a dozen times already.

Her fathers had listened silently, with shoulders squared and backs straight, their only parental concession the lone worry lines stretching across their foreheads.

_It'll be okay, Dad. I know what I'm doing._

Dad had taught Rachel to think independently, and he'd never questioned her decisions. Even now, the most he'd said was, "Rachel…"

Daddy cried, weeping for her loss and having to live through a "loveless marriage". But once his eyes were dry he'd decided to stand behind her in her decision.

When she'd called Jesse with her announcement and demands, she'd been met with a long silence. She'd almost enjoyed his obvious shock and unspoken, _You're what?_ Just when she thought he might have gone unconscious behind the wheel of his car, he asked her to repeat what she'd said. She'd ended up going through it three times, until he eventually assured her his family would keep it quiet. She supposed he wasn't eager for word to get out that he'd jilted Dr. Berry at the altar.

At least one group hadn't needed explBrittanytions. Puck had introduced her to his sister, Bekah, and she'd met Finn on a number of occasions before. Bekah was a female version of Puck, with her long dark hair, haunting green eyes, and braces. Finn, as tall and lanky as ever, was spending his summer (per usual) on the island. His boyish good looks and easy lopsided grin had always brought a smile to her face. Today, though, it made her nervous. They accepted the news of Noah's impending matrimony with friendly smiles, but Rachel didn't miss the silent glance exchanged between the two of them.

Now, four hours, one wedding license, and countless moments of stark terror later, Rachel stood in her white gown, feet poised at the foot of the aisle. The media cameras clicked in machine-gun fashion, capturing a three-quarter view. She curved her lips upward and forced a twinkle into her eye. _Whoever said her theatrics would do her no good had _obviously_ not known what they were talking about_.

Thirty feet down the aisle, waiting in the gazebo, was Brittany and Kurt, Finn standing in as Noah's best man, and a justice of the peace who'd agreed to do the last minute ceremony when the Rabbi had politely declined, (Turns out being Jewish wasn't enough to persuade the kind man that the last minute stand in was the real deal) and Noah.

_Noah. Is this really happening?_

The musicians started the wedding march. Rachel curled her arm around the stiff material of her father's tux and took the first step. A gentle breeze blew off the ocean, ruffling her hair and veil and feathering her strapless A-line gown against her legs. She'd finally found the satin dress at a boutique in the Hamptons after scouring numerous magazines and shops. Now what did it matter that the gown was perfect or that the hem hit the floor precisely?

How had it come to this? Jesse was supposed to waiting at the end of the aisle. They matched. They were a fit according to everything she knew about personalities and relationships. They had so much in common- their love of exercise… organization… punctuality…. Loyalty….

Well. She supposed she'd have to rethink the loyalty part.

She passed her Aunt Dottie in the second row, wearing her trademark cherry-red lipstick. Her brown hair coiled above her puffy white face like thick chocolate shavings on a pile of whipped cream.

The groom's side was half-empty, but what did she expect with last minute invitations? Bekah sat on the first row beside a beautiful Latina woman that Rachel had never seen before. Two part-time employees from Noah's shop sat on the next row, straining to see around a tall, spindly man she recognized from someplace.

She imagined how upset Noah's mother would be at missing the ceremony of her only son. And at finding out about the wedding after it was over… But it was what Noah wanted, and it was his decision. They'd have to smooth things over later.

_Try…_

She was going to be joining another family. The thought struck her hard and quick. She didn't even know these people!

_What am I doing!_

As if her dad could read her mind, his steps slowed and his hand tightened around the one lying against his arm. She glanced up briefly and caught his eye, giving him an encouraging smile she continued forward. She didn't meet Noah's eyes until she nearly reached the gazebo and then realized her mistake. A bride would be gazing adoringly at her groom. Was she smiling widely enough? Her dry lips stuck to her teeth.

Noah had cleaned up well, even shaved his perpetual five o'clock shadow (not that he couldn't pull of that particular look splendidly- and not that she ever _ever_ noticed). His short hair was shining lying obediently against his head. His eyes met hers, pulling her in- a solid lifeline in what felt like a turbulent storm.

They reached the foot of the gazebo, and her dad stopped and kissed her cheek, then took a seat on the first row next to her Daddy.

She was on her own now.

_What am I doing?... What am I doing?..._

She stepped into the gazebo as the last strains of the wedding march rang out and drew to a halt between Brittany and Noah. Her bare arm brushed against his. In the distance, whirring clicks of cameras captured every second of the event, and she knew the best photos would grace the pages of tomorrow's newspapers. But as the justice began talking, all Rachel could think about was the way the heat from Noah's arm seeped clean through his tux and settled against her skin.

"Marriage is commended to be honorable among all men," the justice began. "And therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or light- but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, and solemnly." He emphasized each word, his bushy gray eyebrows inching upward disapprovingly. "Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined for life."

_Joined for life_. She turned her head a fraction of an inch toward Noah as the ugly scent of fear filled her nostrils, mingling with the tangy, salt-laden air. Life?

_What am I doing?_

She dragged in a breath and slowly released it, careful to keep her expression neutral. _There's no going back now. Focus. Just get through the ceremony._

Was Noah afraid too? Was he asking himself what he'd gotten into, wishing he were back in his shop, sitting in a layer of sawdust? Was that his arm trembling against hers? He had every right to panic. He was giving up a year of his life. He was being thrust into the public eye.

_What if he backs out? Right here in front of everybody?_ Jilted twice in one day. Had it ever happened before? She imagined the headline. _"Dr. Berry Jilted at Altar by Two Grooms_."

The justice stopped talking, and the moment's silence sent alarm through Rachel. Instinctively, she slid her right hand from her bouquet and reached out, searching for an anchor. When her fingers touched Noah's hand, his encircled hers. It was warm and strong and – oddly- confident. _It's going to be okay._

The soloist began and Rachel's mind wondered. The song had seemed perfect for her and Jesse. How could she have been so wrong? Who was it who had stolen his heart? Just the night before, he'd held her close and kissed her good night at her apartment door. What was it he'd said? _"I guess I'll see you soon."_

Had there been something in his tone? In his expression? Some warning she'd missed? She'd been too flushed with excitement to notice. And just like that he was gone.

And now she was marrying Noah. Committing a year of her life to a man she didn't love. Good grief, most of the time she couldn't even stand him. Not that he was a bad person. He was just… irritating sometimes. And… smug. And so…. Cocky! The way he was late and careless and so laid-back sometimes.

She couldn't think of a man less suited for her.

The soloist finished the song and returned to her seat. The justice began talking about the seriousness of the vows they were about to take. Rachel wanted to plug her ears. She was a proponent of life-long marriages. It was her life's work to help couples stay married. And now she was making a mockery of the process.

_I'm a hypocrite. A fraud. What would my readers think if they knew?_

The justice turned toward her, and Rachel focused her attention on him as he announced the reading of the vows. She was supposed to face Noah. She handed her bouquet to Brittany and turned toward Noah. She wasn't sure if she was capable of breathing, much less speaking.

Then she saw the corner of Noah's lip tilt up ever so slightly, his eyes soften. Instinctively, she relaxed.

_I can do this._

The justice read the vows, and Rachel repeated them. "I, Rachel Barbara Berry, take you, Noah Elijah Puckerman, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward." Rachel swallowed hard. "Until death do us part."

The last words were rushed, but she'd done it. Now the just prompted Noah.

He repeated the vows, and he did it well. His eyes said as much as his voice. The way he looked at her… it was the way every bride yearned to be looked at. Like she was precious. Like she was his chosen one. His voice was low, as if rumbling up from the deepest part of the ocean. It was more than credible. It was convincing.

The justice said a prayer and ended it with an amen. "It is tradition to exchange rings as a symbol of the love between a man and a wife."

Rings! Rachel felt something akin to a tidal wave inside her. Jesse's best man had her ring. Noah wouldn't have a ring to put on her finger. She turned a desperate look toward the justice, but he was looking at Noah as he spoke. "…representing the unending love of your union." He cleared his throat as if the words had left a foul taste.

Rachel stared hard at the justice; hoping mental telepathy would work just this once. _There are no rings!_

But then Noah turned to Finn. When he faced Rachel again, he held a ring in the hollow of his palm. He'd taken care of it. Relief washed over her in such a wave she could have cried but instead she smiled her gratitude.

He took her left hand in his and slid the ring onto her finger until it rested beside the glittering diamond. "With this ring, I thee wed." The look in his eyes burned the words into her heart.

The band was white gold, elegant in its simplicity. When had he had the time to buy a ring? And how had he known her size?

The justice was prompting her to get Noah's ring. She turned to take the ring from Brittany. There was no way Jesse's ring would fit Noah. She hoped it would at least slide over his knuckle. Maybe no one would notice.

She took the ring from Brittany's palm… but it wasn't Jesse's white-gold band with diamond shaped cuts. This one matched the one Noah had put on her finger. She turned toward him and took his hand in hers. The ring slid easily onto his wide, tapered finger and looked bright against the darkness of his skin. "With this ring, I thee wed," she said.

Noah caught hold of her hands, and the justice gave his closing thoughts. Rachel was aware of nothing except Noah's hands holding hers, his fingers rough and calloused against hers. She noticed that he was more than a full head taller than her five-foot-two frame. Her gaze fell to his eyes. He looked straight at her, into her, anchoring her.

The justice was making his closing statements. "By the power vested in me by the State of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The relief she felt brought a smile to her face. _It's done. I made it through._

"You may now kiss the bride."

She tried not to falter as her eyes flew back to Noah's. In all the commotion of last-minute changes, she hadn't even thought about the kiss. Had he?

One of his eyebrows quirked as if challenging her.

She leaned toward him and felt his hands to go to her waist. She brought her fingers to his jaw just as their lips met. His mouth was soft against hers. His lips moved slowly, deliberately, as he pulled her closet until their bodies nearly met…

_Oh my…. God…._

It was over in seconds, but it left her rattled. Light headed. Good grief, he was good at that. Who would have thought?

He was watching her, most likely noting her newly flushed cheeks. His eyes twinkled as if he could tell the kiss had left her shaken. She drew her shoulders back and tilted her chin as the justice said his final words.

"I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Noah Puckerman."

**XXXXXXXXXX**

"In honor of the first men in her life," the DJ announced from the makeshift stage, "the bride would like to have the first dance of the evening with her fathers."

Rachel disengaged herself from Noah's friends and wound her way through the circular tables to the parquet dance floor, where her Dad and Daddy waited with extended hands. She went into their arms for a three way dance as the first notes of "Unforgettable" began playing behind her. Everything else had been turned on end, but sharing this dance with her father's was exactly the way it was supposed to be. Rachel closed her eyes and relished the normality of it, unwilling- unable- to think past this moment.

"You're holding up well."

She looked up at her Dad. His face had aged the last couple years, and Rachel realized she hadn't visited him in Ohio enough. Phone calls and letters didn't allow the same connection, and she'd spend most of her spare weekends with Jesse in Boston. And for what?

"Really?" She felt as transparent as Saran Wrap and just as fragile. Making rounds with Noah had been hard. Everyone wanted to know how they'd met and how they'd kept it a secret. Noah's eyes had said it all. _We didn't_. The two of them had a million details to work out. She didn't know how they'd remember everything they'd come up with on the fly tonight.

"What do you know about this guy?" Daddy shuffled stiffly. His hair, what was left of it, was combed neatly to the side in a part not quite deep enough to be a comb-over.

What did she know about Noah? Not even enough to fill a page really. "He makes furniture, and his shop is right below my place on Main Street. In fact, he owns the building. I was renting my office space and apartment from him. He did the renovations."

She'd let Noah know months ago that she was moving out this month. Little had she known she'd be moving into his home. She realized she didn't know where he lived.

"What else?" A benign smile hid his concern.

"He's a nice man, Daddy. Really. Harmless."

She glanced over her Dad's shoulder at Noah. He stood with Finn, hands resting in his pants pockets as a beer bottle dangled easily from his fingers. His jacket, long since discarded, left him in a crisp white shirt fitted perfectly, tapering from broad shoulders to narrow hips. Maybe "harmless" was overstating it a bit.

"We're not leaving until morning, so if you need anything tonight you call us."

Rachel laughed. "Not the words most parents say to their daughter on her wedding night."

"This isn't most wedding nights."

Rachel sobered. No, it wasn't. She didn't know who she was going to survive the honeymoon at the Four Seasons, much less the next year.

"If anyone can do this, you can." Her father squeezed her hand in a rare gesture of affection. Behind him, the vocalists belted out the chorus, the lead singer's face reddened from the strain.

"Thanks, Dad."

They danced quietly for a few moments, the three of them swaying gently to the music, before her dad broke the silence. "I know you and your mom haven't gotten on so well in the recent years. But I wish she would have been here tonight."

Rachel didn't want to think about her mother, tonight of all nights. "You're here. That's all that matters." The three of them made one last spin as the band wound down the song and the crowd applauded.

Noah approached her as her parents stepped away. "May I cut in, sir?"

Rachel knew he'd score brownie points for the honorific title. Her dad smiled cordially, but the look in his eyes warned that the points wouldn't carry far.

The band struck up the song she'd selected for the bride and groom's "first dance," and her heart strutted. "When a Man Loves a Woman," had been their song. It had played on the oldies station the first time Jesse had kissed her. A constricting knot lodged in her throat as Noah's hands come to her waist. She felt his eyes on her, and she worked to steady her smile. There were people watching. Always people watching. She had to hold it together.

As if sensing her need to hide, he pulled her close. She laid her cheek against his chest, away from all the faces. Above the swelling music and chatter, she could hear the waves swooshing the shoreline with rhythmic certainty. The consistency of the sound soothed her.

"Its gonna be okay, Rach," Noah's voice rumbled next to her ear.

Her eyes burned, threatening to spill, and she blinked. _Breathe, just breath_. She needed to think about something else, anything else, but the thoughts wouldn't budge: _"I'm in love with someone else."_ Were harsher words ever spoken?

"I'm glad we have a minute alone," Noah said. "Because I have a question for you."

She swallowed. "What's that?"

"Are we going on a honeymoon?"

Her laugh was feeble. "I'm sorry." She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. "We have reservations at the Four Seasons for the week. Is that okay?" He had his work, after all. But if they didn't take a honeymoon, people would wonder.

"I have a couple jobs to finish up this week, but I'll get them pushed back." He pulled her closer. "The Four Seasons, huh? Your publisher went all out."

She moved her hand down his shoulder. "The hotel offered an unbelievable rate. They'll get a lot of publicity."

"Surprised you didn't want to go to Hawaii or something."

She shrugged. "Nantucket's done so much for me. I wanted to do something to help the community. The publicity is good for the island." She smoothed the stiff lapels of his jacket. He'd put it back on for the dance. For the photos that were being snapped.

He'd been a perfect gentleman all evening. She was beginning to wonder why he'd gotten on her nerves before. "Thanks for not shoving cake in my face," she said.

His lips tilted. "Wouldn't dream of it."

The singer crooned the chorus, but Rachel kept her eyes on Noah. They were supposed to be the "Happy couple." It was harder than she'd imagined; the pretending was wearing her out.

"So when does this shindig end?"

_Not soon enough_. "The band has to stop at nine thirty."

Noah started to look at Rachel's watch, but she grabbed his hand and kissed the palm. "You're dancing with your bride. Time is meaningless."

His eyes clouded, _If you were really my bride we would have already blown this joint_, and he settled his hand at her waist, looking away.

"When the band winds down, we'll make our exit," she said. "There's a carriage scheduled to take us to the Four Seasons."

It hit her how deceiving appearances could be. For all that this looked like a fairy-tale wedding, the beginnings of a true marriage, it was a farce. Empty and fake, it was an elaborate mansion, gutted on the inside.

"I haven't packed." He spun them around, surprisingly graceful.

"That's taken care of."

The flash of a bulb flared just off the dance floor. She gave Noah her "adoring bride" smile, letting her eyes rove lovingly over the planes of his face even though she was seeing black spots, as the photographer snapped half a dozen more photos. When he stepped away, she continued. "Brittany is going to grab some things for you tonight. That is, if you don't mind her riffling through your stuff. You can pick up the rest of your things tomorrow."

"Not sure how I feel about Brittany riffling through my underwear drawer."

"Well from what I remember it seems she's seen it before," she muttered lowly. That shut him up. Honestly, of all the things to be upset about. He'd married her at the last moment, but he was worried about Brittany going through his clothing. But what other options did they have? They couldn't send Bekah or Finn after his things and have them knowing he hadn't planned for his honeymoon. Even Noah wasn't that disorganized. "Do you have a better idea?" she asked.

He was looking over her head now, wearing an insipid smile. "Just send Britt."

Rachel opened her mouth to respond, and then changed her mind. The last thing she needed was an argument on the dance floor.

**XXXXXXXXXX**

Rachel faced the mirror in the bathroom of the Four Seasons Shoreline suite. Her dark hair, pulled up at the sides, disappeared beneath the triple-layered veil. Her makeup still looked fresh, her dress stunning. Her shoulders, carefully tanned over the past month, looked every bit as lovely as she'd hoped.

Only none of it mattered now. Jesse loved someone else, and she was married to a man she barely tolerated.

_Ah, but my career is salvaged. At least I have that._

She set her heavy bag on the marble counter and opened it, resting the floppy lid against the beveled mirror. The zipper clanged against the glass.

The carriage ride to the hotel had seemed to take forever even though it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. She was tired of pretending. Which didn't bode well- the entire next year would consist of nothing but pretense, and just one night of it had worn her to the bone. Her feet hurt, her head ached, and all she wanted was to slide between the sheets and pull them over her head.

Maybe it wouldn't feel so awful in the morning. The sun would come up, it would glitter off the harbor, and the fresh air would remind her it was a new day.

At least she wouldn't have to move to Boston. It had been the one thing she'd dreaded. She pictured Jesse's apartment in downtown Boston and sighed at the thought. She'd never go there again. Never sit on his couch and eat popcorn while they watched CNN.

She turned her attention to her suitcase. Her clothing, carefully rolled to avoid creases, was packed in colorful bins all lined up in rows. She scanned the pieces and realized the satin items she'd planned to wear for this week would hardly suffice. Instead she pulled out a tank top and a pair of shorts. It would have to do.

She looked in the mirror, noting her drawn expression, and willed herself not to cry. Then, with a sigh, she began the tug-of-war of releasing herself from her gown.

**XXXXXXXXXX  
**

Noah was sitting in the armchair when she reentered the room, his elbows braced on his knees. His gaze flickered over her, and she realized he must be eager to change.

"Brittany should be here soon with your things."

He nodded.

"Sorry she couldn't get them over sooner."

He nodded again.

Rachel began hanging up her clothing, one item at a time, trying to ignore the fact Noah was probably staring at her backside. They steadfastly held on to their silence until a few minutes later when a tap sounded on the door. Rachel practically leapt across the room to let Brittany in.

"Is everything okay?" Brittany whispered with a hug.

"Sure." Rachel summoned up one last smile. She would've offered more, but Noah was hovering, obviously wanting to change.

"Here you go," Brittany said to him.

He took a paper bag and a noisy cluster of keys from her.

"I couldn't find a suitcase or duffel bag."

"S'fine. Thanks."

Brittany looked at Rachel. "Well…"

"Well…" Rachel's brain raced, trying to think of a reason for Brittany to stay. _Perhaps she'll notice the slightly manic look in my eyes and take pity_. But with a wave and a quirk of her eyebrows, Brittany was gone.

_Traitor._

Rather than run screaming for her assistant, Rachel continued unpacking, stashing her socks and underclothes in one of the armoire drawers while Noah disappeared into the bathroom. He returned in record time.

Wearing only a pair of Nike basketball shorts.

_Oh_…Rachel's gaze skittered away. As if things weren't awkward enough already.

She was acutely aware of his appraisal as he sat in the armchair. What was he thinking? More specifically, what did he expect from this marriage? If it were Jesse, she'd ask- or likely, she'd already know. How many conversations had she and Jesse had about their expectations? They'd been as prepared as an engaged couple could be.

Feeling him watching her, knowing she was procrastinating, Rachel placed her alarm clock, phone and Day Planner on the nightstand, then stowed her suitcase in the closet. When she could delay no longer, she returned to the bed and pulled the covers down, glancing at the pillow on the other side.

_Just what, exactly, does Noah expect tonight?_

_Does he think…?_

She sat on the edge of the bed, facing the wall and a framed print of a lighthouse, back rigid, heart racing. She wasn't naïve. Men expected sex on the honeymoon.

She and Noah were married now, and, technically, it was his right to expect it. But… it seemed wrong. Theirs wasn't the typical marriage. There was nothing typically about this honeymoon. And there was no way she was sleeping with him like some… some… hussy!

Still, this was a conversation they should have had before the wedding.

She didn't want to fret over it all night either. She glanced at him, still sitting in the chair. He was leaning back, his head turned toward her. The room was big, and he seemed far away. A good, safe distance. But she could hardly yell across the room.

Rachel forced her tired legs to support her weight and walked toward him.


End file.
